


Finding Happiness

by freckleslikeconstellations



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Ella Fitzgerald - Freeform, Elton John - Freeform, F/M, Friendship, Happy cheese, Humour, Idina Menzel - Freeform, Kajagoogoo, Kate Winslet - Freeform, Learning to Trust Again, Multi, Plotting Sherlock, Possessive Mycroft, Props, Slight break-up angst, Song fic, Spice Girls - Freeform, Taylor Swift - Freeform, The Beatles - Freeform, Titanic - Freeform, Wham!, dressing up, sexual situations/references, train
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-25
Updated: 2016-08-25
Packaged: 2018-08-10 23:23:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 20,706
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7865500
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/freckleslikeconstellations/pseuds/freckleslikeconstellations
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After you break up with your boyfriend, Sherlock devises a plan to get the smile back on your face again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Finding Happiness

If a song could be associated to each day then today would be the _Ella Fitzgerald_ song _‘Into Each Life Some Rain Must Fall.’_ Not only is it absolutely tipping it down outside from where you sit by a table in Speedy’s, your frozen hands curled around a cup of tea that doesn’t seem to be doing anything to warm them, and your body hunched and shivering in its baggy grey hoodie and soaked jeans, but it matches your mood too. You close your eyes. They soon become damp and a tear hovers in between two of your eyelashes. You swallow once and then again. It’s not like your heart is the first heart to be broken you know. Not like you didn't see part of this coming. The break up part, not the ‘how.’ Never the ‘how.’ You would have never expected Jake to cheat on you. Yes, you’d noticed that he had more reasons for why you couldn't spend time together of late, more excuses, and that’s why you’d gone around to his flat early this morning in an attempt to catch him, before he left for work, so that you could talk. You’d gone there expecting a difficult conversation, or at least a later date for a difficult conversation to be set. You hadn’t expected to see a striking young woman leaving his flat. She’d smiled a little awkwardly at you as you’d passed her in the hallway, and you, being the idiot that you are had smiled right back. In hindsight you wish that you’d pushed her or tripped her or just not acted so God damn friendly. The implication of what her coming out of Jake’s flat at such an early hour had meant had only hit you properly when you’d entered Jake’s flat and seen his face as he looked at you like a naughty school boy who’d just been caught with his arm in the sweet jar. You’d felt angry and humiliated. You’d yelled. You’d cried. You’d said that it was all over, but apart from not liking the fact that he’d got caught Jake hadn’t seemed to care. Not really. You let out an annoyed sound and open your eyes. It’s not like you’d had a particularly long relationship with him you know, but it had still been a year of your life, and a very important one at that. Jake had been your boyfriend when you’d first moved to London and into 221C. You’d partly done so in the first place because Jake was in London and 221C was one of the cheapest places that you’d been able to find. You remember now how Jake hadn’t wanted you to move in with him at the time, saying that it would probably be better for you in the long run if you had your own place and that you’d settle in more by doing things on your own and having your own experiences. You’d been a little disappointed, but you’d accepted the thing quickly enough at the time, thinking that he was probably right and feeling glad that you had such a thoughtful boyfriend. Now however you can’t help but think that the more likely reason he’d had for not wanting you to move in with him was so that he could continue to play away. You’re sure there must have been more than the one woman. You frown and something inside you tenses. Still, back then you’d been clueless of what would happen and all you’d seen was how Jake had helped you pack up your things and unpack them quite happily. He’d met the new friends that you’d quickly made from living in 221C and though you’d gotten the sense that he’d thought them a little strange and that he hadn’t liked them for all the reasons you had you’d felt proud introducing him to them all the same. Proud that you had a boyfriend and a job and that you hadn’t just moved to London without any sort of plan or ties. But now, in the space of a week, you’ve lost both your boyfriend and your job. You’d been made redundant on Monday, apparently you just weren’t hitting the targets good enough even though you’d worked so hard to try and do so, even staying late to try and improve. You getting sacked had been what had started to make you look at your relationship with Jake more closely, and now, on this Thursday, just to cap it all off you’ve found that your boyfriend’s a lying, cheating, scumbag who you’ve wasted a year of your life with. You frown again, feeling suddenly teary. But, determined not to cry or go home just yet, you shove one of your white ear buds into your ear, switch on your music and stare into your tea. 

 

*

 

Mycroft Holmes is angry. Angry with his brother for being so difficult all the time and for always making him regret visiting him. Angry with Mummy for harassing him on the phone and making him think that he should be going to visit Sherlock even more than he’s already trying to, and angry with it now for raining. Keeping the door to 221B flung open with one hand, whilst Mrs. Hudson hovers in the background and says that she hopes he’s not letting all the water in on the floor that she’s just cleaned, he opens his umbrella. He eyes the black car that’s parked close to the kerb and sweeps out of the door towards it. He’s just opened its back door and is closing his umbrella again when the water from it sloshes all over him, hitting his face. Mycroft lets out a groan of complaint and draws his head away, moving it back over his shoulder. As he does so he catches sight of you sitting inside Speedy’s and looking as miserable as the weather. Mycroft blinks the rain away from his eyelashes and hesitates. He’s never seen you looking so dour before. 

 

“You’re getting wet Sir,” his driver calls, twisting his head around from where he’s sitting at the front of the car to look at him. 

 

“Just wait here one moment,” Mycroft says distractedly, making his mind up in that instant, “I won’t be long.” He closes the door again. He strides quickly underneath the red canopy of the café. 

 

From the window of 221B Sherlock watches his brother abandon his car for the direction of Speedy’s with interest. 

 

Mycroft finds himself hesitating again for a moment and he just stares at you through the glass. You seem to be in your own little world, and you certainly haven’t noticed him as you listen to music through a white ear bud. The ugly wire of it disappears beneath your clothes. You’re absolutely drenched, trembling if he’s not mistaken and Mycroft wonders now why you’ve felt the need to stop here and suffer when home is only next door and you could be out of those clothes and dry. Are you perhaps punishing yourself for something? Or do you simply not care? His eyes hone in more on your face, and suddenly, as he sees that transfixed look you’ve got, which tells him that you are both re-living something and lost with no idea of how to move forward from it all he knows that the day he knew would come has happened at last and he feels angry all over again, but sad too. Angry with Jake, sad for you. He moves inside, puts his umbrella in the holder by the door and heads straight for the counter. He leans across a little to the brown haired gentleman who’s serving behind it. “I’ll have a cup of tea and”-he looks across at you. You still haven’t noticed him-“Perhaps a nice slice of chocolate cake for that young lady over there,” he nods at you. The gentleman follows his gaze and looks at you sympathetically for a moment, before he nods understandably. 

 

Mycroft’s order is sorted out in the next moment and money is exchanged. Once it’s all ready and everything has been settled Mycroft carries the tea and cake across to you. 

 

You jerk back from your half drunk tea and tug your ear bud out of your ear with your mouth slightly open as he deposits the cake before you on the table. 

 

He nods at it. “I’ve always found that cake helps with heart break.” 

 

You suddenly feel defensive. “I suppose I don’t need to ask how, despite the fact that I’ve taken shelter in here, so that I can delay going home and telling everyone about the mess my life has now become you already know about it?” you ask as he places his tea down on the table with a bit of a frown, before he sits opposite you. His fingers go to the sugar that you have not used for your tea and to the spare brown stirring stick that’s by your cup. 

 

“May I?” his eyes flick up to you. You nod and shove them across to him irritably, trying to ignore the jolt that you feel inside when your fingers brush against his. You've just broken up with Jake. Today is not a good day to be noticing things about other men. _Especially_ about Mycroft Holmes, the only man, aside from Jake, that you’ve found yourself dreaming about and thinking inappropriate thoughts of since your move to London. The man who just this morning Jake had accused you of having a crush on when he’d said that he hadn’t thought you fully-committed to the relationship and tried to blame you for the fact that he’d shagged someone else. Still, your body and eyes don’t seem to be listening to the sensible thoughts of your head, and you find yourself watching as those long graceful fingers-one of them with a ring upon it, and you wonder not for the first time if it represents anything-sort out the tea anyway. He adds a little drop of the remaining sugar into your cup, which makes you smile in spite of yourself, before he leans across, so that he can stir it in with the stirring stick that he’s just used to mix in his own. “I’ve found that extra sugar in tea also helps,” he tells you, making your lips twitch upward in spite of yourself, before you watch as he puts the stirring stick aside and leans back in apparent satisfaction. You swallow and look down. “Is your life really in such poor shape?” he enquires, and you feel a spark of annoyance with him again. 

 

“Since you already know what’s wrong with me you should already know that yes, it is,” you say, trying to keep your voice as even as you can. You look up at him, before you look down. 

 

_“Oh?”_ Mycroft enquires, tilting his head slightly back from where he’d been sipping at his tea, “I was under the impression that you’ve just been able to detach yourself from a fungus that was threatening to intrude upon your life, surely that’s a cause for celebration rather than such sadness?” 

 

You look up at him, feeling both shocked and angry. “I didn't realize that you had such strong”-

 

“Better that you suffer a broken heart now my dear when you have only had the unfortunate pleasure of being in a relationship with a man like that for a year then to suffer it years down the line”- Mycroft goes on, looking at you levelly. 

 

“Yes, well as sensible as that no doubt is, since the whole thing has just happened I'm sure that you can”-

 

“You should have listened to me when I told you that he was no good for you before,” Mycroft says, sounding suddenly angry with you. 

 

You lean back, staring at him with a furrowed brow and a feeling of great breathless incredulity, “You never said that to me Mycroft Holmes,” you tell him. “As far as I'm aware the only thing that has ever passed between us regarding Jake is when you frowned as you met him, and I had to cover up the fact that the first time I met you, you cornered me in 221B when I was alone and tried to get me to spy on your brother because that’s not the type of thing that you usually tell your boyfriend.” 

 

Mycroft scowls down at his tea for a moment, feeling frustrated with himself and the whole situation. In that moment he’d really like to tell you that he’s wanted you ever since he first laid eyes on you. That when he’d read you he’d liked most of what he saw and found what he didn't more amusing than troubling. He’d read when he’d looked at you that you had a boyfriend too of course, but he’d never paid the fact much attention. That was until he’d met the man one day and realized just how awful and poorly suited to you he was. He’d found himself sitting in the Diogenes Club sometimes in the evenings after that and wondering how he could break the pair of you up. He’d concluded each time that he’d just have to wait it out unless he wanted to make things more difficult for himself down the line. He’d waited and waited and at last this day has come, but he’s not quite sure how best to proceed now. Should he begin to make his intentions clearer to you or give you time to recover from this blow? In the end he says, “The expression on my face was supposed to communicate my disapproval to you, as for when we first met aside from perhaps that one instance, and even then I was not half as severe with you as I usually would be with a new acquaintance of my brothers, I cannot think of one instance where I have treated you in an ungentlemanly fashion.” 

 

“Right, well I get that message now,” you let out a breath, “And yeah, I suppose you’re right, you have always been gentlemanly towards me, but this isn't about you, this is about Jake and my life being an absolute disaster.” You release another breath and look down for a moment, before you force yourself to look back up at him again. “Thanks for the cake, but if it’s all the same to you then I’d rather be alone right now.” 

 

“Don’t let him take away your confidence my dear,” is all that Mycroft tells you in a mysterious fashion, before he finishes his tea, gets up and leaves. It has become clear to him that now is not the right moment. 

 

You look after him feeling frustrated. One minute he’s acting like he understands what you’re going through and saying all this crap about what helps heart break, and the next he’s just being completely insensitive. Doesn't he get that this is not you letting your experience with Jake erode your self-belief, but rather you just reacting in what is a perfectly natural way for you to after such a day? You eat your cake in a quick few bites with relish, savouring the sweetness of it and once more damning Mycroft Holmes in your mind. This time, rather than doing so for making you notice him when you already have a boyfriend-not something that’s a problem for you any more-you do so for choosing the perfect guilty pleasure for you after such a day, after such a week in fact. You sigh, get the rest of your tea down and decide that it’s finally time to go home. 

 

*

 

You've just got into 221C and pulled your damp hoodie off when there comes a knock on the door. Feeling frustrated, but hoping that it will be Mrs. Hudson because out of the three people there she is the best one of them that you could face right now, you go across to answer it, carrying your scrunched up hoodie in your arms. 

 

It’s not Mrs. Hudson, it’s Sherlock, and he only looks you up and down quickly, before he meets your eyes and says, “You've been at Speedy’s.” 

 

“Correct,” you say, feeling irritated and blowing some damp hair out of your face. 

 

Sherlock looks you up and down again. “With my brother,” he says when once more his eyes lock onto yours. 

 

You swallow. “Once more correct,” you tell him, “And for your information he just made me feel worse about the day I’ve already had, so I'm not really feeling all that partial towards any members of the Holmes family right now.” 

 

Sherlock’s eyes narrow for a moment, before they gleam and he reaches forwards. He touches at the corner of your lips with his finger. He draws it back and inspects the stain of chocolate that’s now upon it. “That’s a shame,” he says, looking back at you. Your heart shifts. “Because considering the fact that my brother doesn’t usually frequent cafes and that he’s not usually one to go out giving gifts, you should be feeling pretty honoured right now.” 

 

Feeling even more annoyed at him for pointing out Mycroft’s good points you close the door on him. This is not about Mycroft, this is about Jake, and you wish that everyone would just stop making it out to be about the eldest Holmes brother instead. 

 

There comes a moment of hesitation, before Sherlock asks, “Jake?”

 

You swallow a couple of times and nod, the emotion once more building up inside of you, before you realize that Sherlock can’t see you. _“Yes,”_ you choke out. 

 

Sherlock doesn’t say another word. 

 

**One Month Later…**

 

You wake to the sound of your alarm clock and roll around to switch it off with a groan. You blink blearily, trying to remember what’s happening that day. No interviews, which is a good thing in a way after you’d failed the last one. Handing out CV’s you remember. You grumble a little at the thought of traipsing around and trying to look hopeful and enthusiastic when, after a month of largely doing such a thing you’re feeling anything but. You just wish that things could move forwards now, that you could get a job and move on from all this Jake business in your head, but you don’t seem to be able to do either thing successfully. You put on some jeans, a f/c t-shirt and black jacket and eat your breakfast with little enthusiasm. Mrs. Hudson pats at your shoulder as you give her a forced half-smile, which is the best that you can manage right now, before you head out with your f/c bag flung over your shoulder.

 

To your slight delight as you round the corner you see none other than Mycroft Holmes walking towards you in a grey, pinstripe three-piece suit as he twirls that usual umbrella of his. “Still looking so sad my dear,” he points out as he stops in front of you. 

 

“What are you doing here so early?” you ask him, ignoring his previous statement and feeling a little disappointed when you realize that he probably won’t be joining you in Speedy’s later now that he’s had to come out to Sherlock’s already. Its become a sort of habit for Mycroft to check through the window of Speedy’s for you now every time after he visits his brother. If you’re in there then he’ll always order a little something for you, judging on what mood he finds you in and what he thinks you need along with whatever he orders for himself and it makes you happy. It’s not like you talk much, but after having calmed down more from what had happened with Jake, and after being more honest with yourself, you’d found that it’s nice to spend a bit of time with someone who _does_ probably understand what heart break is. You like Mycroft too, in more than just a friends way. You can’t deny that. You know it every time you hear his voice, every time you feel a jolt inside yourself when he brushes at your fingers with his. Every time that his leg accidentally comes to be in contact with yours. You know it because you like it when he opens doors for you and you like the way that when it had been raining once he’d covered you with his umbrella despite the fact that you were only going next door. You’d found it sweet and you think that he might like you too. You’re not an idiot. Sherlock had been right, Mycroft is not usually one to frequent cafes or to, more importantly, _keep_ frequenting them. Usually, suspecting such a thing and knowing how you feel yourself you wouldn't hesitate, but after Jake you find yourself trusting your judgement less, and there’s also the fact that Mycroft is Mycroft, God knows why he does things really or what goes on in that funny head of his. You know that if you’re wrong then getting rejected by Mycroft Holmes could be very awkward for you since you’d still have to keep seeing him around because of Sherlock, so, rather than any progress being made you just find yourself caught up in this in between stage where you’ve got hope for a new relationship, but you’re still too scarred by the past one to do anything about it. 

 

“Ah, I got a phone call from John on my brother’s behalf last night,” Mycroft begins, apparently oblivious to the mixed feelings that he stirs within you, “Sherlock apparently wishes to see me and it couldn't wait. I dare say that it is only a trifling matter on a silly case of his.” He leaves out the fact that he’d deliberately got his driver to park a little way from 221B that morning in the hope that he’d run into you.

 

“Oh, well good luck with that then,” you tell him, leaving out the thought, which has suddenly occurred to you about how Mycroft would not usually be strolling along the street unless he could help it. You feel a sudden bit of hope build inside you. 

 

“I wish you similar luck with your own business,” he tells you, nodding to your bag, which you’ve got a stack of CV’s wedged inside of. 

 

You hitch your bag further up on your shoulder, feeling impressed and exasperated all at once. “You know,” you say, “If you declared that you knew what was in any other woman’s bag then she’d probably find it frightful.” 

 

“I'm glad that you’re not any other woman then,” Mycroft says, drawing himself up. You smile at him and he gives you one in return, before you both go your separate ways. Mycroft only takes a couple of steps, before he looks back over his shoulder at you. You've got a little extra bounce in your step now since your encounter with him and it makes him smile. He’s glad that he has that effect on you. As if you’ve sensed his eyes on you, you stop and look back too. For a moment you just share a little tight smile with one another. Then you give him a little wave, before you go on your way again, still with that spring in your step and he walks the rest of the way to 221B. He’s not as oblivious as you think. He knows that there’s a chance you like him, but you’ve felt too sad and uncertain from what had happened with Jake to act upon it. Mycroft wonders what he might be able to do to change all that, before he sighs when he sees the wonky brass knocker and straightens it as he draws it down upon the door. As he waits thoughts of you walk out of his head and thoughts of work and his schedule return to him. He gets out his pocket watch and looks down at it with a frown. He’s already more behind than he’d like to be. 

 

“I hope you’re not timing how long its taken me to answer the door,” Mrs. Hudson says, appearing in front of him suddenly, as she wears a white apron with circles of colour on it over her purple dress. 

 

“On the contrary I'm hoping that this tiresome visit won’t take long,” Mycroft exhales noisily as he stuffs his pocket watch away and steps inside without Mrs. Hudson even telling him to. 

 

“Your brother’s just upstairs if you don’t find it too tiring to go up them,” she points out disapprovingly. 

 

He quirks an eyebrow up at her for a moment, before his face clears, his nose wrinkles and his blue eyes go down the hallway towards her flat. “Ah, if you’re making some tea then you can make me a cup. Make sure to make it strong enough though.”

 

He makes to go upstairs then, but Mrs. Hudson, quite tempted to tell him to make the tea himself if he wants it in such a specific way, puts a hand on her hip and asks him, “Didn't your mother ever teach you any manners Mycroft Holmes?” 

 

Mycroft winces, thinking of what Mummy’s response would be in such a situation. “Please and thank you,” he says, before he carries on upstairs. Mrs. Hudson sighs and bustles back down the hallway towards her flat. There’s no teaching some people. 

 

As Mycroft leans his umbrella up by the side of the sitting room door he finds that the room before him is oddly full. There’s Sherlock overseeing it all as he sits in his usual chair wearing a black suit with a white shirt and John, looking a little confused with his brow furrowed as he stands by him wearing a cream coloured knitted jumper and jeans. There too is Detective Inspector Lestrade in a grey suit, navy belt and white shirt with none other than Phillip Anderson, arms folded as he wears an ugly brown patterned jumper and dark jeans with a brown belt. “Quite a party you’ve got going on here,” Mycroft says enquiringly to his brother. 

 

“Good,” Sherlock says, sliding quickly out of his chair into a standing position, “Because a party is exactly what I want us to have.”

 

At that Mycroft hurriedly makes to turn and move out of the door, but Greg and Anderson both grab him and pull him back. 

 

“Oh no, you’re not going anywhere, you’re here now,” Greg says, and Mycroft frowns, shaking the pair of them off him, before he brushes himself down as he comes further into the room.

 

“What is all this about Sherlock?” he asks, eyeing his brother. Sherlock just smirks in a satisfied way as he looks around at them all, _and,_ dissatisfied, Mycroft’s attention goes to John. 

 

“There’s no point looking at me,” John says, as he raises his hands, “All I know is that when I came home after surgery had finished last night this one”-he nods at Sherlock and lowers his hands-“Was looking mighty pleased with himself. Then he just started firing orders at me and told me that I should call you all, and after I reminded him that some of us had actually spent the day in work, I did.” 

 

“The details of last night aren't important John,” Sherlock says, waving a hand and John looks at him irritably, “The important thing is that you’re all now here”-

 

“Why is that so significant?” Mycroft interrupts to ask. 

 

Sherlock eyes him for a moment. “Because tonight the five of us, and unfortunately it _has_ to be the five of us, will be putting on a show.”

 

Anderson makes a scoffing sound of disbelief, whilst Greg and John exchange a look with raised eyebrows, but it is Mycroft who says, “I am not going to be involved in any silly show of yours just because you’ve finally realized how badly you treat your housekeeper”-

 

“Landlady, never housekeeper,” Mrs. Hudson chimes in, coming into the room with a tinkle of china as she carries everyone’s tea in on a tray. 

 

Mycroft makes an annoyed sound. “Yes, well whatever you are you can pour my tea down the sink because I'm not going to waste another second of my time here.” He heads towards the door. 

 

“F/N will be disappointed,” Sherlock calls after him and Mycroft pauses, his breath hitching in his chest as he looks back over his shoulder and wonders what this has to do with you. John and Greg look at each other again. “Yes,” Sherlock says, stepping forwards as Mycroft spins back around, so that he can properly listen, “Whilst Mrs. Hudson is of course invited upstairs later to watch”-his face softens a little as it goes momentarily to his landlady-“It is F/N that tonight is ultimately about.”

 

_“F/N?”_ Greg queries. 

 

“Yes,” Sherlock says impatiently, “Haven’t any of you noticed how depressed she’s been lately since she lost her job?”-

 

_“And_ her boyfriend,” John buts in, before when Sherlock looks at him he hurriedly sips at the tea that Mrs. Hudson had just passed him. The corner of Mycroft’s lips curve downwards into an unpleasant frown at the mention of Jake. He does not want to think about that wretched man any more than he needs to. 

 

“Yes, that too,” Sherlock admits grudgingly, “And as much as I’ve been hoping that she’d just snap out of it no amount of sad films, ice-cream or me looking over her CV seems to have helped”-

 

“Though admittedly that last one wouldn't have,” John states, “Because you were cruel to her”-

 

“I was being honest John! She’d formatted it all wrong! Anyway,” he says with a wave of his hands, “I was thinking about it all yesterday, thinking that I’d go crazy if I heard F/N sigh again”-John and Greg exchange a look. Sherlock can pretend all he likes that he’s thought of whatever this is as a last resort because he’s annoyed with you, but they both know that he’s thought of it because he’s _worried_ about you-“Then I remembered that she has very poor taste in music, but that listening to such music usually cheers her up. Since this is more than just a case of her being upset though I thought that it might be a good idea to take it one step further by putting on a concert for her.” Mycroft thinks of how he’s often seen you listening to music, whilst you’re at Speedy’s or just walking around and thinks that this extra step is probably a wise one since you just listening to it doesn’t seem to have helped this time. 

 

“You said that it has to be the five of us. _Why?”_ Anderson asks, looking a little uncertain. 

 

Sherlock rakes a hand through his hair. “Because there’s five singers in the first song,” he says, “That’s the only reason that my brother and you are even here.” At that Mycroft and Anderson exchange a bit of a look with narrowed eyes, drawing themselves up as they try to work out which one of them being there is the least desirable in Sherlock’s eyes. “Are you in?” Sherlock asks, looking around at them all. 

 

“Well,” John says, “It sounds a little crazy, but I’ve seen how down F/N’s been and I want to change that.”

 

“I'm in,” Greg agrees readily. 

 

“It sounds pretty ridiculous to me. But if F/N’s really in that bad a state then I’ll do it,” Anderson says, finally tearing his gaze away from Mycroft to look at Sherlock. 

 

Sherlock lets out a little breath. _“Brother?”_ he asks, looking back at Mycroft who is the crucial component to the evening though he doesn’t know it. 

 

Mycroft’s eyes dart away from Anderson to Sherlock. As soon as Sherlock had announced that he wanted to do this for you Mycroft had known that he’d relent and become involved in the whole thing, no matter how embarrassing the wretched thing might be. He’s not about to confess to his brother though just how easily he’d been won over, so he looks at him steadily for a moment, before he forces himself to sigh, “I suppose you’ll only tell Mummy if I don’t, so yes, I’ll do it, but I’ll have to phone work because I was meant to have a very busy schedule today. Now this has come up though it will have to be re-arranged.” Sherlock smirks. Mycroft can pretend that he’s doing this reluctantly all he likes, but he knows that he cares for you just as much as everyone else does. More in fact what with all those trips he’s been making to Speedy’s recently and by the fact that ever since you’d first broken up with Jake, Mycroft seems to have suddenly found more of a reason to pop by and check up on him. His older brother blames Mummy’s interference of course, but Sherlock’s not stupid. Mummy’s been harassing Mycroft about him for years. This has got nothing to do with her and everything to do with you suddenly being single again. 

 

“Good,” Sherlock says with a clap of his hands as if that’s everything settled, “I’ll go and fetch the costumes then.” He heads towards his bedroom. 

 

_“What?”_ John asks in horror, whilst Anderson folds his arms all the tighter, Mycroft pulls a face and Greg looks as if he could already do with a drink. 

 

Sherlock comes back carrying a big cardboard box that’s full of costumes with a vast smug smile on his face from the fact that he’d gotten everyone to agree with his plan, before mentioning that they’d all have to dress up. He places the box on the floor in between them all and groan after groan can be heard as the boys begin to look through it. Mrs. Hudson though lets out a little tittering laugh. She’s _really_ looking forward to tonight. 

 

“Hang on,” Greg says, straightening up a little and looking at Sherlock, “If you only thought about this yesterday then how come you’ve managed to get the costumes together so quickly?”

 

Sherlock shifts his position. “Someone I helped out in a theatre department once owed me a favour, and”-

 

_“And,”_ Mycroft begins all-knowingly, “My dear brother loved to dress up as a child, so you can rest assured that he’s got a stash of contacts somewhere just in case this day should have ever occurred.” 

 

Greg and John both laugh at that and Anderson snorts. Sherlock looks annoyed for about a second, but when his brother looks down Mycroft can see a small smile toying about his face and it makes him smile too.

 

*

After calling Anthea and telling her to cancel all his scheduled appointments for the day because of, ‘family issues,’ Mycroft returns to the sitting room and pretends to be as despondent as Greg, John and Anderson are about the prospect of dressing up. He also pretends to be horrified about Sherlock’s set-list, and though a smidgen of such things are true he knows that in actual fact you’ll enjoy it all tremendously, even if no one else does, which is of course the point. He also hopes that by dressing up and possibly making a fool out of himself he might finally make progress in getting you to be his. He’d hoped to have had made more during the past month, but every time he’d seen you you’d still had that air of sadness around you just like you had this morning and the timing hadn’t felt right. It’s almost as if you need an extra nudge or something to push you into his arms, and perhaps this will be that nudge. Mycroft hopes so. 

 

*

 

You return to 221B fully expecting to spend the night in 221C flicking through TV channels or watching a DVD if there’s nothing else on. You consequently open the black door with low expectations. 

 

To your surprise though when you step inside it’s to find that Mrs. Hudson’s waiting for you by the stairs. Your stomach gives an unpleasant lurch. Surely nothing’s happened? Although you wouldn't be surprised if it had. Something always seems to happen when you don’t want it to. “F/N, it’s good to see you dear, the boys are waiting for you upstairs.”

 

_“Oh?”_ you say, slipping your coat off and hanging it up, before you turn back to her. “Is everything all right Mrs. H?” 

 

Mrs. Hudson hesitates for a moment. “I’ll let them explain it to you dear,” she says finally. You open your mouth, feeling confused by her cryptic behaviour. “Have you had anything to eat?” she gets there before you. 

 

“Yes, next door,” you say distractedly. You’d gone there in spite of the fact that you’d known Mycroft wouldn't be there just to take more of the evening up. “Mrs. Hudson, are you _sure_ that everything’s all right?” you ask. 

 

“Best to just go up dear,” she says, patting at your arm. 

 

You give her a bit of a curious look, before you place a hand on the banister and begin to go upstairs. To your surprise once you get to the sitting room you find that a big screen with spotlights either side of it now covers up where the armchairs usually are and that the coffee table has been pushed aside. There are also now two bottles of water beside the settee, and Mrs. Hudson, whose followed you upstairs, makes to sit down on said settee, but nods that you should sit upon the single wooden chair that has been placed in front of it instead. 

 

As soon as you do so Mrs. Hudson calls, “We’re ready,” and you look at her over your shoulder feeling intrigued. She nods at you to face the front though, so you do so. 

 

The two spotlights either end of the screen suddenly glare into life. You blink. You can’t know that somewhere behind that screen Mycroft is mentally gearing himself up for everything and feeling more than ready to see you at last. 

 

“F/N L/N,” comes Sherlock’s familiar voice. 

 

“Yes Sherlock?” you ask, still blinking a little. 

 

“You have been”- John’s voice. 

 

“A very”- Anderson, and your eyes widen a little now because up until then you hadn’t been aware that anyone else had been there. 

 

“Very”- Greg. 

 

“Bad girl.” _Mycroft._ You swallow at the fact that _he’s_ there, and your heart jumps at the way that his voice had sounded so seductive. 

 

“You've annoyed us by being so miserable,” Sherlock says, and something tightens inside you uncomfortably. 

 

“Worried Sherlock, _worried,”_ John corrects. 

 

“Whatever the case F/N,” Anderson says. 

 

“You've made us very sad,” Greg finishes, and you can imagine him pouting. 

 

“So for one night only,” Mycroft’s voice lifts, “We are going to be”-

 

“The Spice Girls!” all the boys yell with varying levels of enthusiasm. Sherlock being oddly the most excited and Mycroft-trying to affect an air of casual nonchalance because he might have worked hard today and part of him might want you to know just how much effort he’s put in, but his natural ways scream that if he can maintain at least some of his dignity tonight and win you over in the most coolest of fashions then that would be the most desirable option-the least. You let out a splutter. 

 

“We have John as Baby Spice!” Greg yells like one of the world’s finest football commentators, and out comes John from the left of the screen in a knee-length white dress that shows off the fine blond hairs on his legs. He’s somehow managed to stuff his feet into a pair of white high heels and you gape at him. His mouth, which had been sucking at a blue lollipop, leaving a nice trace of it on his tongue, quirks up into a rueful grin as he eyes you. 

 

“Sherlock as Sporty Spice!” Greg shouts, and Sherlock comes bouncing out from the right with as much energy as a boxer entering the ring as he punches and kicks at the air. He looks fully immersed in his role as he wears a pair of navy shorts, a tight fitting white t-shirt, trainers and navy sweatbands around both of his wrists and head. He throws you a wink, before he karate chops the air again and you let out a cry of laughter. His curls bounce. 

 

“Anderson as Scary Spice!” Greg announces. 

 

“I still don’t know why _I_ have to be Scary,” Anderson complains. 

 

“Because that’s what we decided on,” you hear Greg muttering angrily, and the expressions on Sherlock and John’s faces suddenly become rather transfixed with John sucking harder at his lollipop and Sherlock increasing his range of impressive swiping gestures in an attempt to distract you. You suddenly have a vision of the boys fighting over which of them would be which Spice Girl and it makes you smile. You wonder which one of them Mycroft is going to be. 

 

You hear a bit of muttering coming from behind the screen and then suddenly a pair of hands pushes Anderson out of it. Anderson-in a black Afro wig-stumbles for a moment, before he steadies himself and begins to strut into position next to Sherlock. He’s wearing a maroon pair of high heels, but it’s the leopard print cat suit that he’s got on that has you gawking. It leaves very little to the imagination and apparently Anderson is better endowed than you could have ever thought. Who knew? Perhaps _that’s_ why he’s been able to have all those affairs. 

 

“Me as- _ahem_ -Silver Spice!” Greg says, coming out from the left and you grin and wave your hands to hold back both your laughter and rising excitement as he steps out in red high heels and an union jack dress that’s reminiscent of the one that Geri Halliwell had made so famous. He puts a hand on his hip as he strides into place next to John and you let out a little whoop of joy because the group’s nearly complete, before you feel a little breathless as you wonder what Mycroft will be wearing. “And finally,” Greg announces in a rumbling tone, “Mycroft as”-

 

_“Posh,”_ comes Mycroft’s familiar drawl as the music for _‘Wannabe,’_ starts up and you literally gasp as the sight of a bare pale leg kicks out of the left side of the screen. If the sight of Mycroft’s leg had nearly killed you though then when he reveals his outfit properly you must be dead because surely the sight of Mycroft Holmes in a pair of strappy silver high heels, a black dress that finishes in a triangular tip to maintain his decency and a low-cut neck that shows off a generous amount of his chest hair must mean that you’re in heaven? Add that to the fact that he’s wearing black eye-liner and a bracelet of the same colour and you’re nearly floating as you look at him. You eyes roam all over him and when he gives you a little pompous wave-you can’t know that he’s feeling more than pleased with your reaction and feels that things might be even easier than he’d hoped-you give him one in return feeling stupefied. You practically drool and feel suddenly very jealous as those long, delicate fingers touch first at Anderson’s shoulder and then at Sherlock’s as the British Government goes to claim his place in the middle. Your breath hitches each time his thighs give the gentlest of wobbles as he walks. 

 

“Ha ha ha ha ha,” Sherlock chuckles, feeling more amused by what has already transpired than you’ll ever know. 

 

“Yo, I’ll tell you what I want, what I really, really want,” Anderson sings, gesturing to the group. 

 

“So tell me what you want, what you really, really want,” Mycroft and Sherlock sing, turning towards Anderson. 

 

“I’ll tell you what I want, what I really, really want,” John sings. 

 

Greg puts another hand on his hip and Mrs. Hudson lets out a little laugh, before she covers up her mouth with her hands. “So tell me what you want, what you really, really want.”

 

Anderson and John both jump forwards and you start. “I wanna”-

 

“Ha,” Sherlock karate chops. 

 

“I wanna”-

 

“Ha,” another chop. 

 

“I wanna”-

 

“Ha.”

 

“I wanna”-

 

“Ha.”

 

“I wanna really, really, really wanna zigazig ah,” all the boys sing, before they pose. Anderson and John both put their hands on their hips and look to the right and left respectively, Greg does the same, but looks directly at you instead with a clear pout on his face, Mycroft tilts his chin up and looks perfectly aloof as he keeps his gaze fixed on the right and Sherlock crouches low to the floor, facing the front with one hand shielding his forehead as if he’s looking out to sea. 

 

“Oh my God,” you breathe, frantically trying to keep your eyes on everyone, whilst simultaneously getting your phone out of your pocket. You know that you have to get this recorded in a way where you can re-live it again and again in more than just your head. Not to mention you have to show this to Molly. She’d love to see Sherlock like this. There is some nervous eyebrow twitching from the boys when they realize what it is that you’re doing. 

 

“If you want my future, forget my past, if you wanna get with me, better make it fast. Now don’t go wasting my precious time, get your act together we could be just fine,” Sherlock sings, and as the song goes into another round of ‘I’ll tell you what I wants’ he swaggers towards you, plucks your phone delicately from your hands and tucks it into the front of his shorts. You pout and sigh, and hearing such a thing on his way to re-join the others Sherlock looks over his shoulder at you. In between singing, ‘If you wanna be my lover, you gotta get with my friends,’ John and Greg exchange a bit of an anxious look at the danger signs that are on your face. The whole night could be jeopardized if something isn't done now. Sherlock lets out a bit of a huff and turns back around properly, before he gives your phone back to you. 

 

Your face instantly becomes a picture of delight and your legs kick out happily, but your entire body quickly freezes a moment later when Mycroft suddenly pushes Sherlock aside and sings, “Oh, what do you think about that? Now you know how I feel,” with one hand on his hip, whilst he eyes you desirably. He partly wants you to know in that moment that him dressing up and doing all this for you is him confessing his love, wants you to know that you are the only one he’d do this for, but he also wants to use the opportunity to do something else too. Your head is too dazed to pick up on any messages however and you just swallow and shift aside a little in your chair when he raises a foot and places it beside you. Unused to heels he wobbles for a moment, before he finds his balance. But then, whilst you gawp at his freckled thigh and swallow profusely he takes your phone out of your hands without you even noticing, before he tilts your chin up with a well placed finger on his other hand as he goes on, “Say, you can handle my love, are you for real?”

 

“Are you for real?” Anderson echoes in the background. 

 

“I won’t be hasty, I’ll give you a try,” Mycroft sings, brushing at your hair. “If you really bug me then I’ll say goodbye,” he turns and waves his hand. His fingers snap together as he walks back behind the screen from the left, slips your phone into the pocket of the suit he’ll be wearing later and exits the screen from the right once more to re-claim his place in the centre. 

 

The boys do another round of the chorus with more karate chops from Sherlock, and then just a little bit later on Anderson makes you laugh when he raps, “So, here’s a story from A to Z, you wanna get with me, you gotta listen carefully. We got John in the place who likes it in your face, you got G like SH who likes it on a, easy M doesn’t come for free, he’s a real lady”-

 

_“Gent,”_ Mycroft interrupts, his head swinging right towards Anderson. 

 

“And as for me, ha you’ll see,” Anderson ignores him. 

 

“Slam your body down and wind it all around,” Sherlock sings, before he does an impressive spin on the floor that makes Mrs. Hudson gasp, “You’ll be paying for any damage!” 

 

“Slam your body down and wind it all around,” John encourages as Sherlock does another spin. 

 

“If you wanna be my lover, you gotta get with my friends,” Anderson sings. 

 

“Gotta get with my friends,” the rest of the boys echo, Sherlock jumping to his feet. 

 

“Make it last forever,” Anderson continues, “Friendship never ends”-you snort at Anderson singing that-“If you wanna be my lover, you have got to give.” 

 

“You've got to give,” the boys echo. 

 

“Taking is too easy, but that’s the way it is,” Anderson finishes. 

 

“If you wanna be my lover,” they all sing. 

 

“You gotta, you gotta, you gotta, you gotta, you gotta,” Sherlock overrides, “Slam, slam, slam, slam.”

 

“Make it last forever,” the rest of them come back properly into the song. “Slam your body down and wind it all around, slam your body down and wind it all around.” 

 

“Ha, ha, ha, ha, ha,” Sherlock kicks. 

 

“Slam your body down and wind it all around, slam your body down and zigazig ah,” they all sing, before they finish, “If you wanna be my lover,” and pose, Sherlock crouching close to the floor again, this time with his hands dropping down in between his legs, Greg doing a ‘V’ sign with his fingers behind Mycroft’s pouting face as the British Government tilts his chin up and John and Anderson with their hands on their hips. 

 

You get to your feet and begin to holler and clap, a great big beaming smile upon your face and all the boys look towards you and give you a sweeping bow of acknowledgement-Mycroft in particular looking pleased-before they turn and move back behind the screen, slapping their bums with their feet as they go. “That was amazing!” you call. 

 

“The show is far from over, so please, resume your seat,” comes Greg’s voice. 

 

You sit down and look back questioningly at Mrs. Hudson. She just looks at you with a smile upon her face, so you face the front again just as the thrumming introduction to _‘Too Shy’_ by _Kajagoogoo_ begins to play. Goose pimples prickle your skin as Sherlock and Mycroft exit from the left and right side of the screen respectively, now in black suits, white shirts with their collars up and black polished shoes after a very quick change. They dance towards you, swaying their hips and moving their hands in wheel like motions by the side of their bodies. 

 

“Time after time, I'm short of breath, don’t even try,” Mycroft sings, “Try a little harder.”

 

“Something’s wrong, you’re not naïve, you must be strong,” Sherlock joins in, flexing his biceps as they both reach you. 

 

“Oh, baby, try,” they both plead, forming the point of a triangle with their now perfectly still bodies as they peer down at you. 

 

“Hey girl, move a little closer,” Sherlock sings, dropping down to his knees and attempting to tug your chair nearer to him, before he grasps at your hands as Mycroft shifts behind you. You look nervously up at him, not knowing whether you can trust him, before you look back at Sherlock. “’Cause you’re too shy shy,” they sing as Mycroft’s large hands with one ringed finger move to cover up your eyes, and you swallow as you feel Sherlock letting go of you. “Hush hush, eye to eye,” Mycroft’s hands lift and you find yourself staring into Sherlock’s glittering eyes from where he’s still crouched before you. “Too shy shy,” and your eyes get covered again by Mycroft’s, before as both Sherlock and he dance around your chair with their heads swinging from side to side to the beat and their hands making those same wheel like motions by their sides Sherlock becomes the one covering your face. “Hush hush, eye to eye,” Sherlock’s slightly smaller hands lift and you now see that Mycroft is crouched before you. He touches at your hands briefly and your heart pounds in your chest as you feel the cold metal of his ring, but then he gets up and is on the move again. Your eyes get covered. “Too shy shy, hush hush, eye to eye,” and once more it’s Sherlock in front of you. “Too shy shy, hush hush,” and this time it’s Mycroft and he raises a finger to his lips, before he stands. “Modern medicine falls short of your complaints, try a little harder, you’re moving in circles,” Mycroft and Sherlock both sing as they dance around your chair, making the same wheel like motions as before with their hands. “Won’t you dilate, mm, baby try.”

 

“Hey girl, move a little closer,” Mycroft sings as he twirls around until he’s in front of you, catches the umbrella that Greg throws out from behind the screen and attempts to claw at your shoulder with the hook of it. You swallow and attempt to wriggle back a little further like a nervous horse. You don’t know quite what to make of all this. 

 

“’Cause you’re too shy shy,” Mycroft and Sherlock both sing, Sherlock covering up your eyes this time. “Hush hush, eye to eye.” Sherlock withdraws his hands and you discover that Mycroft’s crouched before you, pouting cutely as his chin rests on the handle of his umbrella. You swallow, and feeling braver you make to touch at the side of his hair suddenly, but before you can both boys are on the move again. Mycroft throws his umbrella back towards the screen, so that Sherlock and he can dance like they had been previously. “Too shy shy,” they sing, Sherlock covering up your eyes again until Mycroft can take over. “Hush hush, eye to eye,” and now it’s Sherlock in front of you. “Too shy shy, hush hush, eye to eye.” Mycroft. “Too shy shy, hush, hush.” Sherlock, and he begs you to keep quiet by lowering his hands towards the floor, before he stands up and twirls. Both Mycroft and he circle your chair, without the eye covering this time, before there’s a final burst of the chorus again. You feel intoxicated by both of them by the time the song finishes, and as they both give you a little wave, before they head back behind the screen you can barely lift your hand to return it. You sway a little in your chair and swallow. Mrs. Hudson knowingly offers you some of the bottled water that’s by the side of the settee and you sip at it. 

 

There’s no time to recover any more than that though, for as you put the bottle back to the floor the pumping music of, _‘Drive By’_ by _Train_ is filling up 221B and John in his cream knitted jumper with sunglasses attached to its collar and jeans is exiting the screen from the left. He’s holding a map up, and the way he’s looking down at it with his brow furrowed makes you laugh. 

 

He looks up at you and pretends to do a double take. You blush and flick at your hair. “On the other side of a street I knew, stood a girl that looked like you, I guess that’s déjà vu”- John shrugs-“But I thought this can’t be true ‘cause you moved to West L.A or New York or Santa Fe or where ever to get away from me.” He tosses the map aside and Sherlock, Mycroft, Greg and Anderson all exit the screen. Sherlock and Mycroft are still in the same clothes that they were wearing for the previous song, Greg is in a grey suit with a white shirt and navy belt and Anderson is in a brown patterned jumper and jeans with a brown belt. Sherlock’s holding a drink can, whilst Mycroft, pretending to be harried as he’s on the phone and walking really slowly, stops for a moment and silently mimes telling John off for littering. You giggle. John waves a hand and Mycroft rolls his eyes and walks off. “Oh but that one night,” John thrusts and Mycroft, seeing the movement in the corner of his eye, looks back at him in alarm, tucking his phone back into the inside pocket of his jacket as you laugh. Suddenly a horrific thought enters Mycroft’s mind. The thought that now the competition of Jake is gone he might have some more from unexpected quarters. He’d spent the whole day focused on his relationship with you and how he wanted that to progress that he hadn’t thought about anyone else’s and what the others might want to get from the night. He swallows at his lack of forethought. “Was more than just right, I didn't leave you ‘cause I was all through,” John continues, “Oh I was overwhelmed and frankly scared as hell, because I really fell for you.” The other boys all pretend to suddenly notice John’s plight and Sherlock runs towards you and gives you his drink can, which you lower to the floor, whilst Anderson rushes behind the screen and comes out holding a red cardboard car up to his chest that he pretends to be the driver of. He gestures to John and John looks at him gratefully for a moment, before he jumps into the passenger seat. Sherlock, Mycroft and Greg, keen not to be left behind all get into the back of the cardboard car and Greg pretends to be breaking up a fight between Mycroft and Sherlock over invisible sweets. “Oh I swear to you, I’ll be there for you this is not a drive by,” John sings, beside himself now as all the boys move their shoulders as they walk in place. Mycroft thinks hard as they do so. “Just a shy guy looking for a two ply, hefty bag to hold my love,” John jumps out of the car again, whilst the others remain where they are. “When you move me everything is groovy,” John says, rolling his hips and causing you to giggle. Mycroft rolls his eyes and Sherlock tuts in the background. “They don’t like it sue me,” John waves a hand at them, “Mmm the way you do me,” John raises his eyebrows at you suggestively, and as you blush and duck your head shyly Mycroft looks simply horrified in the background. Surely you’re not going to be so easily taken in by John and his vulgar moves after what had happened between Jake and you, and after the way it had ended so disastrously? But your expression tells him that such things _are_ taking you in and it makes him worry. “Oh I swear to you, I’ll be there for you, this is not a drive by.”

 

Greg exits the car and Mycroft’s stomach suddenly feels tight at the unscheduled choreography. Surely Greg’s not interested in you too? “On the other side of a downward spiral my love for you went viral,” Greg joins John, who looks a little unhappy about his attempts to upstage him, “And I loved you every mile you drove away.” Greg rolls his hands towards you and Mycroft suppresses a growl. Tonight is going to be a lot harder than he’d ever thought and he’s definitely not going to be able to win you over coolly. “But now here you are again so let’s skip the ‘how you been’ and get down to the ‘more than friends’ at last.” Greg whips off the navy belt he’s wearing, eliciting a cry of _‘Gregory!’_ from Mycroft. Sherlock looks at his brother in a confused fashion for a moment, no doubt wondering whom he’s referring to. Mycroft can’t believe how things are progressing. They couldn't be any worse. Tonight should be about him and you. No one else. At this rate he’s going to have to show you more of himself and how much this means to him in front of the others when he’d been hoping to avoid such a thing. He swallows. 

 

John shoves at the Detective Inspector’s side again with his elbow, pushing in front of him as he sings, “Oh but that one night, is still the highlight, I didn't need you until I came to.” 

 

John exchanges a look with Greg and then they both look back to you as they sing with a renewed determination, “And I was overwhelmed and frankly scared as hell because I really fell for you.” 

 

Mycroft and Sherlock both tut simultaneously. Mycroft, still panicking a little about these latest developments, and Sherlock because at this rate John and Greg are going to end up ruining his plan without them even realizing that they've done so. The Holmes brothers look at each other, and then, neither of them wanting to keep up the pretence when they have such a minimal role in this song; Sherlock lets the cardboard car fall to the ground, so that both he and Mycroft can fold their arms. 

 

“Car crash TV,” you mutter with a forced cheerfulness to Mrs. Hudson, not knowing what to make of either Mycroft or Sherlock’s behaviour right now, and she laughs, whilst John and Greg continue to go into the chorus. 

 

They pretend to stagger and stumble into each other when they finish it and then, as they place a hand each to their forehead, Greg sings, “Please believe that when I leave there’s nothing up my sleeve but love for you, and a little time to get my head together too.” 

 

As John and Greg finish the song off your eyes flick back every now and again to where Sherlock and Mycroft are standing facing you in the background with their arms folded and very narrowed eyes as they both watch Greg and John. The more you look at them the more you find the way that they’re behaving childish considering the fact that they’d just had a whole song to themselves. You can’t help but feel a little disappointed too. If they want to be involved in the song so badly then they should just push their way in until they are, that’s what they would do in their normal lives after all, and if they’re not willing to do that then they should just go behind the screen again instead of sulking there and making you feel uncomfortable. In particular you feel annoyed with Mycroft for letting you down. He’d done well until this point, and you just wish that he’d continued to do so instead of making you feel confused about the way you feel for him. You’d felt so attracted to him during the first two songs and now things have gotten complicated again because do you really want to get involved with such a moody man? 

 

Not wanting to think about it too much you force yourself to watch Greg and John alone for the rest of the song. Once its ended all the boys disappear behind the screen again. There’s a larger gap than before and some muttering and you wonder for a moment if they’re finished or whether they’re just arguing amongst themselves. You’re just hoping that neither Sherlock or Mycroft are making things difficult for anyone when the music to the very popular _‘Let it Go’_ by _Idina Menzel_ starts up. Mycroft exits the screen from the right a moment later, his head slightly lifted up, and your mouth drops open at the implication that he’ll be singing the song. He’s wearing a light blue shirt with an open collar, which reveals his chest hair, darker blue braces and black trousers. His feet are bare and he carries a dark blue shawl around his shoulders, which his hands cling to. He steps out delicately, like a ballet dancer as he looks off into the distance. You can’t know that he thinks this solo in particular might be a way of getting his feelings across to you and re-claiming the night for himself and you. 

 

“The snow glows white on the mountain tonight, not a footprint to be seen,” he sings mournfully, treating this very seriously now that he has competition and doing his best to be in character. “A kingdom of isolation and it looks like I'm the”-

 

“QUEEN!” everyone else yells from behind the screen, and you snort as you hear Sherlock and John descend into a fit of giggles. 

 

Your expression twitches into a more serious one however at the sight of the glare that Mycroft throws over his shoulder. He chooses the wrong moment though, for a second later the boys all peer out, Sherlock and John from the right of the screen and Anderson and Greg from the left. Mycroft draws the shawl tighter around himself as he continues, “The wind is howling like this swirling storm inside. Couldn't keep it in, Heaven knows I tried,” he places a hand dramatically to his chest and the corner of your lips lift again. You can’t know just how fitting he thinks these lyrics are. For whether it’s for the best or not he can’t afford to keep his feelings in, can’t let John or Greg swoop in now and steal you from him. “Don’t let them in, don’t let them see,” he places the back of his hand to his forehead twice and tilts his head back because he’s tried he honestly has. Tried to take things slow and be a gentleman about them, not to mention tried to cover up how he feels for you in front of everyone else, but that hasn’t got him anywhere. “Be the good”-

 

_“Girl,”_ Sherlock intones with a snigger, before all the boys hurriedly draw their heads back and giggle again as if them trying to embarrass Mycroft is the funniest thing in the world. 

 

“You always have to be,” Mycroft draws himself up, looking ruffled. “Conceal,” he digs his elbows into his chest and clenches his fists, “Don’t feel, don’t let them know. Well now they know!” he draws the shawl off him and tosses it aside, finally putting everything on the line as he looks at you for the first time during the duration of the song. This is the right moment he knows; he’s going to make it. Somehow tonight, right here, right _now,_ he’s going to get the way that he feels across to you. You swallow. “Let it go,” Mycroft looks to the left, “Let it go,” he looks to the right and takes a step closer towards you, dragging one foot behind him. You watch as the delicate point of it flirts with the floor. “Can’t hold it back any more,” he looks at you. He’s not going to leave you in any doubt now. “Let it go, let it go!” he urges powerfully. _Trust me._ “Turn away and slam the door,” he waves a hand behind him. _Don’t care what they think. This is about you and me._ He turns towards you and you find yourself standing automatically. “I don’t care what they’re going to say,” he sings as he touches the tips of your fingers with his, “Let the storm rage on. The cold never bothered me anyway,” he looks off to the side. “It’s funny how some distance, makes everything seem small,” he sings in an almost rueful fashion, looking back at you, “And the fears that once controlled me, can’t get to me at all.” He’s only afraid of how you might respond now, nothing else. He brushes at your hair and your breath hitches in your chest. He smiles at you and as you stare into his blue eyes you think that you could get lost in them. “It’s time to see what I can do,” he grips at your hands more securely, and your heart jumps. Can he prove that he loves you? “To test the limits and break through. No right, no wrong, no rules for me,” he begins to spin you, and the pair of you move around in a fast circle. 

 

“I'm free!” you both cry out, and for the first time since you broke up with Jake you genuinely feel that way, like you’re putting the past behind you. You break into a laugh and Mycroft chuckles. 

 

The circle you’re moving in slows until you’re back where you’d started once more, standing just in front of the chair, your hands on Mycroft’s forearms. “Let it go, let it go,” you sing tentatively, staring into his eyes, as your confidence builds inside you. There’s a little shuffling behind the screen as Sherlock, John, Anderson and Greg all peer out from behind it again at the sound of you singing. Mycroft and you, too caught up in each other, both ignore them. “I am one with the wind and sky,” you continue, feeling better now. 

 

Mycroft’s face crinkles into a smile. “Let it go, let it go. You’ll never see me cry,” he traces a finger from just beneath your eye to the beginning of your cheek and your breath hitches in your chest. “Here I’ll stand, and here I’ll stay. Let the storm rage on,” Mycroft sings in a softer and more considering tone.

 

Feeling brave and as if you might be safe with him you put your hands on his shoulders, and they curve around his neck as he begins to spin you gently again. Your feet come off the ground, resting against his legs as you tilt your head back until your body curves as you sing, “My power flurries through the air into the ground. My soul is spiralling in frozen fractals all around. And one thought crystallizes like an icy blast. I'm never going back; the past is in the past!” As you finish and your feet touch back down on the floor again, your lips slightly parted and your eyes sparkling as you stare at Mycroft, Sherlock hurries forward and pushes his brother hard. 

 

“Oh Sherlock!” Mrs. Hudson cries in exasperation, just about managing to catch the wooden chair and stop it from falling on her as Mycroft and you both go tumbling to the ground. You land on your back, whilst Mycroft lands in a sprawled fashion all over you, his chin landing close to your stomach. You let out a bit of a gasp as you feel the press of his body against yours and lift your head up, blinking at him in shock. His pushes his head down into you for a moment as if he’s trying to either eat you or breathe you in, and each breath that escapes you comes out raggedly. He makes snuffling noises like a dog on a scent as up and up his head goes until it rests against your shoulder. Slowly he lifts it and looks at you and your eyes meet. Your eyes are wide and you feel like you’re barely breathing. As you take in the sight of Mycroft’s slightly unfocused eyes and the dazed expression that’s on his face as well as his parted lips you think that it might be the same for him. His hands compress your sides for a moment, as they just feel, but then he catches sight of Mrs. Hudson’s legs behind you and he becomes aware of everyone again and that he is not just sharing this moment with you. He draws up more, until he’s on all fours with his hands either side of your head. His legs keep yours together and as you look up at him you realize that his face seems oddly flushed. 

 

“I-I”- you get out, lifting yourself up onto your elbows. 

 

Mycroft’s face seems to become all the redder as your lips become all the closer. You can’t know that he’s starting to get lost with you once more. As you release a breath it flutters across into his mouth and wakes him up. Those blue eyes, which seem to contain something different swirling inside them to what they usually do widen a fraction. He mumbles something incoherently, and then as Mrs. Hudson’s legs shift ever so slightly he attempts to scramble into a standing position. As he does so for one moment he loses his balance and his hips thrust against you. You moan out without being able to help it at the feeling of his hard member pushing against you, before you quickly cover your mouth with your hands as a blush forms upon your face. 

 

“Oh God, I-I'm so sorry, I didn't mean”-

 

Mycroft clears his throat, too embarrassed to even properly acknowledge what had just happened even in his head. “Let it go, let it go,” he starts to sing once more in an oddly high-pitched tone that causes much laughter from the rest of the boys who have all now come out properly from behind the screen to watch. Mycroft’s face darkens in annoyance. Damn the others! He wishes that it were just you and him. Wishes that he could get you alone. Perhaps then things could feel a hundred per cent certain between you and you could continue whatever had started between you just now. 

 

You meanwhile feel confused. For, for a moment, what with everything, time had felt frozen and you’d quite forgotten that you still had a song to sing. You put on a brave smile though and sing, “And I’ll rise like the break of dawn,” as you take Mycroft’s pro-offered hands and allow him to help you to your feet. Your bodies bump together and feeling shy you turn around, a blush on your face. You don’t know what to make of all this. Everything’s moving on so fast. You just need one moment to think about it all. 

 

“Let it go, let it go,” Mycroft purrs, suddenly feeling more confident again, for despite your shyness perhaps the others don’t matter. Perhaps the blush on your face alone means that he’s already captured your heart and your body knows what it wants even if your mind hasn’t quite realized it yet. His hot breath dances across the shell of your ear and then your neck as he steps close enough to ensure that the front of his body brushes against the back of yours. You let out a little breath, and feeling encouraged Mycroft’s hands twist all around your arms until they become outstretched. 

 

Feeling because of your position a little like Kate Winslet in the film _‘Titanic’_ for a moment you sing in a trembling breath, “That perfect girl is gone.” Mycroft’s hands withdraw from your arms and dance across your sides. When you feel the backs of his thumbs brushing against the curve of your breasts and his nose nudging against your neck, whilst his breaths flutter against you, you gasp, “H-Here I stand, in the light of day,” thinking that you better get closer to the end of the song, before your brain completely short-circuits and you no longer remember the words. 

 

“Be confident again now,” Mycroft whispers so that only you can hear. You must trust your judgement and trust him despite Sherlock’s little interference. You must not let your own mind confuse you by thinking too much now. 

 

You twist around to face him and your e/c eyes flash against his blue ones for a moment as his hands go to your waist. Suddenly you want to prove to him just how confident you can be. “Let the storm rage on,” you sing, before you stand on your tiptoes and move your face closer to his. You waver at the last moment when you become aware of just how near his eyes are. 

 

Mycroft, sensing your nerves, pushes past you and finishes, “The cold never bothered me anyway.” He looks off to the side, clearing his throat a little. He is encouraged by what you’d just been about to do, but again he knows that your confidence is still something that needs to be worked on and you’re not quite there yet. In any case even if you _had_ managed to press your lips to his he would have not wanted to kiss you in front of everyone else because their presence does matter he now realizes. For both your sakes and any future relationship you might have together you need to speak to each other privately about all this, before a next step can be made. You clear your throat too and you both feel embarrassed as Mrs. Hudson and the boys begin to clap. 

 

It’s only as Mycroft begins to walk towards the screen once more that you let your eyes go to his back as you wonder about his feelings. One minute he’s telling you to be confident and then he’s walking away just as you’re trying to be. Had he sensed your sudden inability to go through with it? Or had he pushed you away because it was not what he wanted? 

 

“Eh Mycroft,” Anderson says playfully, whilst John pats at the British Government’s shoulders, Greg lets out a wolf-whistle and Sherlock looks on with an oddly smug expression about his face. 

 

Mycroft pushes through them all with his head ducked and disappears behind the screen. You take the rescued chair from Mrs. Hudson with a bit of a forced half-smile and sit down on it feeling a little uncomfortable and embarrassed. Had you got what you thought you’d felt flourishing between Mycroft and you in that song wrong? You clear your throat again. 

 

“My turn,” Greg says, adjusting the cuffs of his white shirt, before he swaggers towards you properly as the song _‘I'm your Man’_ by _Wham!_ begins to play. “Call me good, call me bad, call me anything you want to baby,” the detective sings, taking your hand and lifting you up out of your chair once more. “But I know that you’re sad,” he taps at your nose, “And I know I’ll make you happy with the one thing that you never had,” he pulls you close and your free hand falls against his chest. You let out a bit of a breath. You can’t exactly stay confused about Mycroft for too long with all this going on around you. “Baby, I'm your man,” Greg sings over your shoulder as he begins to sway with you. 

 

“Don’t you know that?” Anderson, Sherlock and John sing in the background, swaying side by side in time as they pretend that their curved hands are microphones. 

 

“Baby, I'm your man, you bet!” Greg pulls away from you. “If you’re gonna do it, do it right, right?” he gestures to himself hopefully, “Do it with me.” Mycroft, still hiding behind the screen, pokes his head out of the right side of it, so that he can watch you. “So good, you’re divine,” Greg sings, and as Mycroft watches you laugh and twirl underneath Greg’s arm and remembers your scent as his own head had pushed upwards towards your shoulder, you really are. “Want to take you, want to make you,” Greg goes on and yes Mycroft does. “But they tell me it’s a crime!” Greg sings indignantly and Mycroft lets out a little breath. He doesn’t want to make you do anything against your will, and again he wishes that the others weren’t there, so that he could fully ascertain _what_ your will is. If he could just have one moment alone with you! “Everybody knows where the good people go, but where we’re going baby, ain't no such word as no!” Mycroft’s eyes darken. As much as he would never force you into anything that doesn’t stop him from picturing you on the floor again. There’s no one else there this time and he’s running his hands over you, dipping them beneath your top and feeling whether your skin is soft and hard and _where_ it’s soft and hard. You’re panting, gazing at him out of eyes that contain desire and nothing else. He’s fully established that you want him and that you’re ready. Your head comes up again and this time your lips meet. “Baby, I'm your man!” The vision in Mycroft’s head wavers. 

 

“Don’t you know who I am?” as Anderson, Sherlock and John’s voices fully disrupt the scene in Mycroft’s head he blinks and withdraws behind the screen once more. He lets out a breath, and then another one. His back rests against the screen and his palms splay against it. He hears a shriek of your laughter and his confidence falls. After doing that song with you he’d thought that you could feel it too, the intensity, the desire to touch, to _feel…_ but perhaps you can’t. Perhaps you’d just enjoyed the moment, but it doesn’t go beyond that for you. After all you’re dancing with Greg, you’re laughing and you’re so happy and it’s Greg and all the others that are making you feel like that right now. Not him. You probably haven’t noticed his absence. 

 

You have. You’d noticed it when Mycroft had withdrew his head and it had made you frown, which had made Greg tickle you and resulted in that burst of laughter, which had escaped you. You carry on dancing to the chorus quite happily, but you still feel a little uneasy about Mycroft’s sudden absence and you wonder what’s going on in his head right now. 

 

“First class information, I’ll be your sexual inspiration, and with some stimulation, we can do it right,” Greg sings and Mycroft closes his eyes. He sees himself and you in bed this time. You won’t need anything else. You can be each other’s stimulation; if what he hopes is true then it surely won’t take much. One of his hands on your thigh, your hands on his chest, tugging at the hair there and begging, begging for more, whilst his tongue and lips explore the curve of your neck. Your breath would hitch and suddenly he wouldn't be able to take it any more. He’d give you what you wanted. What you _both_ wanted. Mycroft’s eyes open.

 

“So why waste time with the other guys?” Greg sings. Why indeed? Mycroft thinks. He’s going to make you his and change your mind if it needs changing. He doesn’t care any more. He’s done with hesitating. He’s spent all day thinking that tonight would be the night he’d make you his and it will be. He’s not going to let the others ruin it now. He finds himself exiting the screen from the right and stalking towards you. He misses the smirk that comes on Sherlock’s face when he passes him. “When you can have mine,” Greg goes on obliviously until Mycroft nudges him aside and finds that your hands suddenly fall into his. Your eyes seem to shine with a renewed light and they give Mycroft hope. He can’t know that you feel encouraged by him being confident again. “I ain't askin' for no sacrifice,” Greg sings on as Mycroft twirls you beneath his arm. You try and keep your eyes on him, but inevitably you can’t. “Baby your friends do not need to know!” The twirl ends and your hands end up splayed against Mycroft’s chest. Your eyes widen and you blush, before you hurriedly let go of him. Something inside Mycroft purrs. He’s got you. Surely he has. He hadn’t been wrong before. He’d just let the others confuse him. “I’ve got a real nice place to go.” You expect Mycroft to take your hand again, but to your surprise he just gives you a bit of an intent look, as if he’s telling you that he _has_ got a real nice place to go, before he turns his back on you and makes to join where his brother, John and Anderson are still swaying deliciously as they provide the backing vocals. Your eyes follow Mycroft curiously and when he’s almost in position he looks back over his shoulder at you and smirks when he sees how you’re gazing at him. Your eyebrow quirks up. Is he flirting with you? Wanting to go over there and be close to him you make to step forwards, but before you can do so Greg takes you in his arms again and finishes off the song. You eye Mycroft inquiringly over his shoulder, but Mycroft refuses to look at you. 

 

The next song- _‘Shake It Off’ by Taylor Swift-_ kicks in immediately, and you find yourself laughing as Greg lets go of you and Anderson darts in between you as he sings, “I stay up too late, got nothing in my brain, that’s what people say mmm, that’s what people say mm.”

 

Sherlock tosses you a white t-shirt and you shrug off your jacket without hesitation, before you look at the boys feeling suddenly self-conscious. Sensing what you want they all stand in a horizontal line before you and close their eyes. You smile, feeling more comfortable now that you can keep an eye on them as you take your top off. You toss it on the floor close to your jacket. As you do Mycroft’s eyes flutter open and he takes in the inviting sight of your skin beneath your bra, before he hurriedly closes them again when you twist back around. Your eyes narrow as they automatically go to him. For a moment you’d thought that you’d detected some movement about him. His eyes open. You let out a little breath and tug the white t-shirt that Sherlock had given you close to your stomach. ‘Another case where you’re not a gentleman?’ you mouth. 

 

‘Sometimes it’s impossible to be perfect, even for me,’ is what he mouths back, and you smirk, before you watch as he closes his eyes again.

 

You slip the t-shirt on hurriedly and let out a bit of a sigh when you realize that it reveals your stomach. You find that typical considering that one of the boys must have chosen it. 

 

“I go on too many dates, but I can’t make ‘em stay,” you say as you walk behind the boys and trail a hand across all their shoulders. You do Mycroft’s first and he opens his eyes again with a smug expression upon his face. You come to a stop in between Sherlock and Anderson. “At least that’s what people say mmm, that’s what people say mm.” Your family thinks such a thing at any rate you know, but as the rest of the boys come back to life, opening their eyes, which go to you and more particularly to your stomach, you go back to the chair teasingly despite all that, before you face them again. “But I keep cruising, can’t stop, won’t stop moving, it’s like I got this music in my body and it’s gonna be alright.” You raise your arms above your head and your hands twist together, whilst you swing your hips from side to side. You’re going to have some fun with this song and try and figure out what’s making Mycroft be so hot and cold and oddly hesitant tonight. 

 

Suddenly Anderson’s in front of you. “ ‘Cause the players gonna play, play, play, play, play,” he sings, his eyes looking at you lustfully. 

 

“And the haters gonna hate, hate, hate, hate, hate,” Sherlock growls, pinching at Anderson’s ear and dragging him away from you. 

 

You let out a little laugh. “Baby, I'm just gonna shake, shake, shake, shake, shake, I shake it off, I shake it off.” You twist your head either side and jump around a little. “Heart breakers gonna break, break, break, break, break,” you sing, and you find that your gaze goes automatically to where Mycroft is standing perfectly still with his hands in his pockets as he watches you. Your heart jumps as you try and work out what’s going on between you. But then Greg’s in front of you and you grin, “And the fakers gonna fake, fake, fake, fake, fake. Baby, I'm just gonna shake, shake, shake, shake, shake, I shake it off, I shake it off, I shake it off.” You dance with Greg, your head swinging from side to side and your hands going on and off his shoulders in time with the music. “I’ll never miss a beat, I'm lightning on my feet, and that’s what they don’t see mm, that’s what they don’t see mm. I’m dancing on my own”-

 

“Dancing on my own,” Sherlock and Anderson chorus. 

 

“I’ll make the moves up as I go”-

 

“Moves up as I go,” John and Greg sing. 

 

“And that’s what they don’t know mm, that’s what they don’t know mm.”

 

“But I keep cruising,” John comes across and Greg steps aside grudgingly so that you can dance with him. “Can’t stop, won’t stop grooving,” John and you sing as you jump up and down. “It’s like I got this music in my body saying it’s gonna be all right.”

 

Everyone apart from Mycroft-who does not like you dancing with the other men because it brings back his doubts-sings, “ ‘Cause the players gonna play, play, play, play, play, and the haters gonna hate, hate, hate, hate, hate,” and as soon as Sherlock realizes that his brother’s not singing he dances up to him and nudges at his hip with his own, encouraging him to come out of his head as he sings along, “Baby, I'm just gonna shake, shake, shake, shake, shake, I shake it off, I shake it off.” Mycroft folds his arms and doesn’t look the least amused, but Sherlock gets the sense that it’s not because his brother hates Taylor Swift. Hell, he probably doesn’t even know who she is. 

 

Through the rest of the chorus you end up dancing with John some more, Greg again and Anderson, and as you get to, ‘I-I shake it off, I shake it off,’ you find yourself jumping about with Sherlock as he holds and moves your hands towards him and away from him again as if you’re two kids who have had too much sugar. 

 

Suddenly Sherlock guides you so that the chair is now in between you both and you’re facing each other across it. He lets go of your hands and puts a foot on the chair. He leans towards you and cups at his chin, whilst he thoughtfully pretends to consider, “Hey, hey, hey, just think while you’ve been getting down and out about the liars and dirty, dirty cheats in the world you could have been getting down to this sick beat.” As he finishes he reverses away from you half-bent as he shakes his hair. His curls bounce. 

 

You grin and put one foot on the chair. “My ex-man brought his new girlfriend,” you sing, “She’s like ‘oh my God,’ but I'm just gonna shake it.” You think of the woman you’d spotted leaving Jake’s flat for a moment, before you shake your head. Jake’s behind you now, he’s been behind you ever since you’d sung, _‘Let It Go,’_ with Mycroft, and you’re not going to waste a second longer thinking about him. You lean back a little and look at the boys. Your eyes lock on Mycroft’s, and his eyes dart up from where he’d just been admiring your legs and wishing that you weren’t wearing jeans. You grin when he doesn’t even look particularly embarrassed about the way that you’d just caught him watching you. Instead he just wears a level look, which verges on being a daring one. Time to be confident just like he’d wanted you to be because two can play at this game. “And to the fella over there,” you crook your finger and try and beckon Mycroft across, “With the hella good hair, won’t you come on over?” Greg immediately thinks that you mean him and he takes a confident step towards you at the exact same time that Mycroft takes an equally determined one. The two men freeze and look at one another. _“Baby,”_ you say, as if you’re quite exasperated that Mycroft might still doubt that it’s him. If he does then you’re going to erase it and leave him in no doubt. You let the chair tumble sideways to the floor as you remove your foot from it, before you stride over there. The eyes of the two men follow you. You come to a deliberate stop in front of Mycroft and Greg exhales, as far as he’s concerned you’ve just made your choice. You flip the sides of Mycroft’s jacket back and grab onto the blue braces that lie beneath as you grind your crotch against his. Unsatisfied by the friction you let go of his braces and let your hands slide around to his lower back, before you attempt to grind again. Much better. Mycroft swallows, before his mouth forms an ‘O.’ You being confident is one thing, but this is another thing entirely. “We can shake, shake, shake,” you say in a soft tone, grinding against him on every ‘shake.’ 

 

_“F/N!”_ Sherlock and Greg say at the same time, both looking scandalized at you being so open about your choice. 

 

Mrs. Hudson laughs, looking very amused with it all from her perch on the settee. 

 

“My eyes will never recover,” Sherlock says in shock, but you just give both Greg and him a bit of a shrug and grind against Mycroft one last time. To your delight he returns the gesture with both a mischievous and calculating look about his face, and your bodies roll together once, before you let go of him. Feeling hot you burst into the final round of the chorus. 

 

Once you finish Greg calls, “One more song,” and your face falls at the thought that all of this will soon be over. “It’s a good one F/N, don’t worry,” he assures you when he sees your face, and you perk up a moment later when the first bouncy notes of _Elton John’s ‘Are You Ready For Love’_ begin to play. 

 

“Catch a star if you can, wish for something special,” you sing as you go across to Mrs. Hudson. You right the chair on your way, before you offer your hands to your favourite landlady. 

 

She lets out a little chuckle, before she joins in, “Let it be me, my love is free.” She pats at your hands and gets to her feet. 

 

When you turn around with her it’s to see that John, Anderson, Mycroft and Greg have formed a tunnel with their hands, which Sherlock waits at the end of for you. After exchanging a smile Mrs. Hudson and you begin to walk through it. 

 

“Sing a song to yourself,” Anderson sings as you move past him. 

 

“Think of someone listening,” John chimes in. 

 

“One melody, you’re all for me,” both Mycroft and Greg sing as Mrs. Hudson and you leave the tunnel and join Sherlock. 

 

“I’ll write a symphony just for you and me, if you let me love you,” Sherlock sings, offering his hand to Mrs. Hudson, and she takes it after swatting him on the arm. Sherlock looks at you. “I’ll paint a masterpiece just for you to see.” He offers you his free hand and you take it. “If you let me love you, let me love you.”

 

The three of you begin to spin in a gentle circle with your hands entwined as everyone sings, “Are you ready, are you ready for love, yes I am, are you, are you ready, are you ready for love, yes I am, are you, are you ready, are you ready for love.” 

 

You break out of the circle with a laugh, and as Sherlock continues to dance with Mrs. Hudson you find yourself falling backwards into Greg’s arms. 

 

“You’re the one,” he sings, “Like the sun. Shine your love around me. You’ll always be, the one for me,” and although you don’t know it he’s not exactly lying. In fact every time his wife messes him around, every time he has to hear Sherlock say that she’s still conducting a blasted affair with someone, and seen your smiling, loyal face in contrast he’s been quite tempted just to pack his marriage in because he’s felt more and more drawn to you. He knows that it’s wrong and he knows that he’s probably overstepped the line with some of his behaviour tonight by trying to have some fun of his own, _more_ than overstepped it perhaps, but it’s not like he can help it. His wife just makes him feel so frustrated, and more hurt than happy these days, and he knows that you’ve had a rough time of it recently too and he can sympathize with that. Even though he’s disappointed that your heart now seems drawn towards Mycroft that’s not going to stop him from being a good friend to you or from feeling happy at the similarities that he feels sprout between you whenever you talk. 

 

He spins you across and you find yourself falling against someone else. You only realize that it’s Anderson when you hear him singing above you, “Say the word and I’ll be there.” He moves you again, so that you go forwards this time. 

 

“Loving you forever,” John intones when you hit his chest with your back, and he spins you to his left, so that you go towards Sherlock and Mrs. Hudson again, but before you can reach them you find yourself backwardly hitting someone else. 

 

Someone whose hands move to hold your waist securely. Someone whose voice makes you shiver as they sing softly into your ear, “Don’t let me go, just say it’s so.”

 

You twist your head up to see that Mycroft’s smiling down softly at you, looking somehow both serious and gentle all at the same time. Your breath hitches as your eyes meet and you’re just about to turn around, so that you can perhaps cup his face and dance with him properly again when he lets go of you and shifts to your left. You look at him, feeling rather maddened by him, because what is he doing now? Why is he still being so hesitant? But then when everyone forms a circle, takes each other’s hands and lifts them up and down as you all sing, “We’ll hear the music ring from the mountain tops, to the valley below us, we’ll serenade the world, with a lullaby so the angels will know us, angels will know us,” you feel happy again. You look around at them all, your heart filling up with love and gratitude that these beautiful people surround you. There’s Sherlock just opposite, standing in between Mrs. Hudson and John, his face bright and happy and his mouth slightly open as he listens to something that his landlady is telling him. Whilst John and Greg grin across the circle at one another, happy that everything’s worked out and just enjoying the moment. Anderson’s on your right, looking at you with a soft smile about his face, which you return, and there, to your left, his hand clutching yours in the most delicate of ways, is Mycroft, his eyes dancing with something lighter and less guarded than what they usually do. You let out a soft breath and look away, before you join in with everyone else as they sing, “Are you ready, are you ready for love, yes I am, are you, are you ready, are you ready for love, yes I am, are you, are you ready, are you ready for love.” 

 

“Thank you everyone!” you yell as you all huddle in close, and your hands scrape across both of Anderson’s and Mycroft’s backs and theirs do the same to you, before you slowly begin to draw away from each other once more. Everyone lets out relieved breaths and some even laugh as you all begin to let go of one another. 

 

“It was a wonderful idea dear,” Mrs. Hudson says, patting proudly at Sherlock’s shoulder as she looks up at him. 

 

“Oh,” Sherlock says a little embarrassedly. He looks at you. 

 

“Thank you,” you breathe, your eyes shining as you fling yourself into his arms. He pats at your hair and shoulders a little awkwardly and tries to wriggle free almost immediately, but you don’t let him. Instead you just hold onto him tightly for an age. 

 

Once you finally let go of him you escort Mrs. Hudson back to her flat, laughing and chattering the whole way, whilst the boys begin to dissemble the screen and sort out all the props and everything else that they’d collected together to make the evening so special. Mrs. Hudson and you decide to make a drink for all the hard workers, thinking that they more than deserve it, and you’re still on a high from the whole thing when you help her carry the tea things upstairs. Your heart plummets a little though when, after looking around eagerly and picturing the both of you drinking tea together, you realize that Mycroft’s nowhere to be seen. He must have already left you think. You can’t help but feel disappointed, but you try and cheer yourself up as you lounge around with everyone else and drink tea with them. You've had a wonderful night after all, no point making a big deal out of what’s probably nothing to be concerned about. Mycroft probably just had to leave straight away because of getting up for work early tomorrow. It’s not like you’ll never see him again. Still, you like to think that since splitting up with Jake, Mycroft and you have become closer and even become friends, and you feel hurt that he hadn’t even said goodbye to you. 

 

You soon feel mellow and happy again though by the time that you’ve drunk your tea and changed back into the f/c t-shirt you’d been wearing pre- _‘Shake It Off.’_ You feel warm inside, tired and content. It’s a good feeling. 

 

You help Mrs. Hudson carry the now empty cups back downstairs.

 

You’re just washing them up for her, whilst she dries, when she says knowingly, “It’s a shame that Mycroft had to leave so early.”

 

“Mm,” you mumble, feeling embarrassed that she might have spotted the way that you’d first looked around for Mycroft so keenly after going upstairs and still wondering what Mycroft and you exactly are after tonight.

 

Before either of you can say anything else though Greg and Anderson pop their heads around the door. 

 

“We’re heading off now,” Greg informs you. 

 

“Ooh dears, you gave me such a fright,” Mrs. Hudson says, clutching the dishcloth to her chest, before she lets out a bit of a laugh. “Goodnight then.”

 

“Night,” Greg and Anderson chorus, before they look at you. Mrs. Hudson nods that you should go with them, and so after drying your hands quickly you do so, following them down the hallway. At the door they turn towards you. 

 

“Thank you both for tonight,” you say, pecking them both on the cheeks and hugging them quickly. 

 

“Perhaps we could go out for a drink sometime?” Anderson asks. 

 

You chew on your lip and duck your head for a moment, before you decide to say wisely, “Yes, with all the others? I’d like that.” You catch Greg’s eye and he smiles knowingly at you. It feels to you like everyone else-excluding Anderson apparently-seems to think that there’s now something going on between Mycroft and you after tonight. You just wish you knew what it was yourself. 

 

Anderson opens his mouth to correct you, but Greg opens the door and pushes him out of it with a well-placed, “C’mon, time for us to be off.”

 

You close the door with a bit of an awkward laugh at Greg’s more than obvious behaviour, before you go back to Mrs. Hudson. She’s nearly finished however, and so after saying goodnight to her and kissing her on the cheek as you would do usually, you head upstairs with the intention of saying goodnight to John and Sherlock. You run into John on the landing by the sitting room.

 

“Just heading up to bed,” he gestures upstairs. 

 

“All right, thanks John, goodnight,” you hug him and he hugs you back.

 

“It was worth putting that dress on just to see you smile again,” he grins, patting you on the shoulder. “Can’t believe that Sherlock came up with it all,” he goes on with a bit of a yawn. You nod in similar agreement and he heads upstairs. You look after him with a soft sigh, before you head into the sitting room to find Sherlock. 

 

It’s dark in there now, apart from the slither of light that comes in because someone’s drawn back one of the long curtains and is now standing before the window, peering out of it. Your silly, tired head thinks that it’s Sherlock at first, it’s something like he’d do after all, but then you realize that the profile is all wrong and that whoever it is has less hair and a more upright posture and your heart jumps and you feel frightened and you let out a gasp. 

 

Mycroft Holmes, his hands in his pockets and his eyes glimmering in the low light, turns around from his pondering to look at you. 

 

Your racing heart calms down a little as you look at him and you feel a sudden burst of relief, but that doesn’t stop you from saying rather accusingly, “Y-You scared me,” as you place one hand on your heart. 

 

Mycroft’s hands move out of his pockets and he opens his mouth as he steps forwards. Before he can say anything though Sherlock steps out from the direction of his bedroom fully clothed and says, “He does that. Finds it funny. One thing you need to be aware of if the two of you should start dating now”-you open and close your mouth helplessly, your eyes going back and forth between the two brothers. Mycroft’s eyes however remain on Sherlock, whilst Sherlock keeps his focus on you-“I'm going to bed,” the youngest Holmes declares, “But I’ll be leaving the door a little open, and if I hear any inappropriate noises then I won’t be afraid to come out here.” He looks between you both steadily, before he turns and flounces into his bedroom. True to his word he leaves the door of it ajar. 

 

You eye it warily for a moment, before your eyes go back to Mycroft. His hands are back in his pockets and he’s gone back to staring out of the window again. You swallow for a moment and pull your top down a little self-consciously, before you clear your throat. Mycroft’s head moves a little, but he does not look back at you. “You know,” you say, brushing your hair back absent-mindedly and slipping one hand into the pocket of your jeans as you go across to him, before you decide to take it out again. “That after tonight I'm going to have to start calling you Mr. Hesitant Café Man don’t you?” As you finish you look across the street and at how the moon’s light dips down across the buildings. It makes all the windows look shiny and strange.

 

“That’s odd,” Mycroft says, peering down at you.

 

“I know,” you reply, turning your head to look at him, and now your eyes fix in on him more and become more intent as you search for the answers you’ve been waiting for. “Because usually you wouldn't frequent cafes and usually you wouldn't have so many moments of uncertainty. What happened?” 

 

“Before I answer I wish to tell you that you’ve been rather suffering from the same afflictions of late.”

 

You smile for a moment, before you look away from him. The longer you look away though and just stare out into the night the more uncertain you feel. You remember him trying to encourage you to be confident and say, “Oh,” as you look back at him, “Well I guess the café thing was because of Jake and wanting to be alone and”- you break off hesitantly. 

 

_“Yes?”_ Mycroft pushes.

 

You turn towards him, and your hands grasp at his braces tentatively. “I guess the uncertainty thing was because I was trying to figure out what we were.”

 

“What would you like us to be?” Mycroft asks, as his heart pounds in his chest. 

 

You hesitate for a moment, your eyes just staring into his, before you let out a little fluttery breath. Then you stand on your tiptoes, push your lips against his and very delicately kiss him. All you get is that he tastes very faintly of tea, before you pull away again. 

 

“Jake?” Mycroft murmurs questioningly, resisting the temptation to brush at your hair. 

 

You swallow and look down for a moment, before you look back up at him again. “You know, ever since we sung, _‘Let It Go,’_ I haven’t felt that what happened with Jake has mattered as much, and if I can pretty much get over him in one song then perhaps what he said when we split up was true.” You pause and Mycroft brushes at your hair to try and encourage you to continue. “Perhaps, like him, I wasn't as devoted to the relationship as I once thought I was.” You let out a little breath and push closer to him, your hands going to his braces again. “I think coming to London, making new friends and going through new experiences maybe made me think, sub-consciously anyway, that, that wasn't what I wanted. Being with him,” you elaborate, looking into his eyes. 

 

“And us _is_ what you what?” Mycroft pushes. 

 

You nod. “I think us is what I’ve wanted for a while,” you confess sincerely, “Maybe even when I was still with Jake.” The words seem to linger ominously in the air for a moment.

 

Mycroft kisses you briefly, but when he draws back he can still see that there’s some uncertainty in your eyes, some hesitation you’ve got about plunging into this relationship fully with him, and he cups at your cheek, brushing at your hair. He can feel all the want surging inside him again and the desire to touch, but as your hand covers his, and your eyes once more go to his ring, he decides that there’s a need for one last delicacy and a few last words to fully convince you. “You’re curious about my ring?” he murmurs. 

 

“Is there a reason for it?” you wonder. 

 

“There wasn't,” he confesses, which is a lie, but another story for another time, “It was a mere fashion choice. However, if you’d like”-he lets go of you and slowly twists the ring off his finger. You step back and he looks at you with serious eyes, before he lifts your left hand up with his and holds the ring just above it. “F/N L/N,” he says, “I shall let you wear this ring tonight as proof that I trust you to keep it safe and in the hope that you trust me too. You have shared with me what you want us to be, and I want to now declare and leave you in no doubt that I wish the same.” You let out a little breath. He slides the ring onto your finger. It’s a little big, but doesn’t look at too much risk from falling off all the same. “I will not break your heart like Jake did.”

 

You stroke at the side of his hair for a moment as you gaze into his eyes. “And I will not break yours like whoever your ring reminds you of did,” you say knowingly, for you can tell by the sincere way in which he’d put it on you that it means more to him than he’d let on.

 

His eyes widen with surprise, before his face becomes soft again. “I knew that placing my faith in you was a good idea,” he says, and you barely have time to smile at such words, before he’s swinging you around in front of him and his mouth is on yours. 

 

Caught off guard you stumble a little, grabbing at his braces with one hand, but as you outstretch your other in order to try and steady yourself it catches against Sherlock’s music stand and pushes it to the floor. 

 

Mycroft withdraws from you with a smack and you both look at each other for a moment with wide eyes as you pant, before as one your eyes go to the music stand. 

 

“This place is a tip,” Mycroft mutters, and you put a hand on his face and turn it back to you, before you kiss him hungrily again. You’re not going to let him get distracted now. His hands tighten on you, and as he begins to steer you to the left, so that you can be away from the window for a greater amount of privacy, you lift your foot up a little experimentally, before you jump up and fasten your legs around his waist. He grunts and helps you adjust, attempting to kiss you all the while, before he pushes you against the tiny part of the wall that’s between the shelf and window. You thrust against him a couple of times and his body returns such movements. You run your hands through his hair, before you finally withdraw from him with a gasp and struggle down into a standing position. Mycroft’s eyes barely meet yours, before his lips are on yours again. The noise of your soft kisses fills the night as your lips slide against each other’s teasingly. You wriggle his jacket off and his hands only leave your waist for a moment, before they return there. Your hand strokes down alongside his hair, by the side of his face and winds around his braces, before it settles on the top of his trousers. Mycroft puts your other hand there, giving you permission, and kisses you some more. You’d nearly forgotten how close to other people you both were, but when you hear the sudden sound of something creaking your hands go completely still and you barely respond to Mycroft’s fervent lips. “What is it?” he asks, pulling away from you, and the tone of his voice is both a little demanding and concerned. 

 

You swallow and look back up at him. “We’re in 221B,” you remind him, “We could go to my flat downstairs or”- you break off when Mycroft shakes his head. He begins to stroke at your cheek as if to say that it doesn’t matter. _“Sherlock,”_ you tell him insistently, not knowing why he doesn’t get why you can’t do this in here.

 

Mycroft shakes his head again. “I want him to hear,” he growls, his voice fierce with determination, “I want everyone. Mrs. Hudson, Mrs. Turner’s lot next door, the whole street, _Jake,_ the whole _world”-_ a little shuddery breath escapes you as you stare at him-“I want everyone to know that you are mine and to hear what happens as you come undone when I'm inside you.”

 

As you swallow again you can’t say that you have any objection to that, but it still doesn’t stop you from batting at his chest and muttering, “Sadist.” 

 

Mycroft lets out a satisfied noise. “In any case”-he kisses at your neck and you let out a moan, tilting your head back-“My brother is a liar,” he gets out, before he smirks. Your hesitation finally melts and you quickly make to undo the button and zip of his trousers. “He would never,” he goes on, taking a hand off you, so that he can absent-mindedly slide his braces off, “Dare come out now. The moment has long past. Sex scares him far too much.”

 

“Just as well that hasn’t rubbed off on me then,” you say with a breathless pant, and Mycroft lets out a satisfied, ‘Mm,’ as he slides both your jeans and underwear down. You push against him more, trying to escape the cool air. He eyes you for a moment and as he shifts forwards his own trousers fall down with little encouragement. You let out a little breath. He runs his hands beneath your t-shirt, probing at the skin there. Some of it is soft and some of it is hard, but all of it is warm. You gasp and choke out at the feel of his cold hands sliding upward. They push underneath your bra, touching at the base of your breasts. _“Myc,”_ you cry out involuntarily. 

 

“What is it my dear?” he asks, his lips close to your ear, “And it’s Mycroft please.”

 

You push against him in annoyance. You can’t explain, and you damn well know that he knows this. You’re too breathless. Your brain can’t function properly and your body’s become a pliant piece of soft clay against him, which he can sculpt and mould and do as he wants with. His breath tickles against his ear. You know that he’s enjoying this. “Myc, God,” you plead.

 

“It’s _Mycroft,”_ he nips at your ear, whilst his hands rub up and down you, always going as high as the bottom of your breasts, but never any higher. He’s driving you mad. 

 

_“Mycroft,”_ you gasp out in the hope that this torture will come to an end. 

 

“Shh, shh,” he soothes, “Just tell me what it is that you want.” His hands run up your skin once more, but this time they don’t go back down, and the tips of his fingers just rest beneath your breasts teasingly. 

 

“You know what I want,” you refute. 

 

“I won’t until you tell me,” Mycroft murmurs, beginning to trace circles into your skin. You tilt your head back and shiver a little, before you lower it and look back at him. 

 

“I-I want,” you begin in a breathless fashion, and you push against him even more and your hands weave around his back and go down and down, causing Mycroft to jerk a little as you touch at the edge of a ticklish spot, before they come to rest on the smooth, silky material of his metallic blue boxer shorts. They curve around the shape of his perfect behind and push and push him closer to you. Your eyes flutter with desire. You’re so close. You can almost feel him properly against you and you just want him to give you everything now. “I-I want all of you, _only_ you.” 

 

“Hmm…” Mycroft says consideringly, before he tilts his head and decides, “Better, but not quite good enough I think.” He nips at your ear again. 

 

Your hands dart up to his shoulders and your eyes widen. You don’t know what else you can say. “I want-I want”- you begin falteringly.

 

“In a proper sentence please”-

 

“I”-

 

“Use my name.”

 

_“Urgh!”_ you groan, pushing at his boxer shorts even more, before you move your hands around, so that they come to be resting on top of them. 

 

Mycroft’s hands quickly cover yours to stop any attempts that you would have made to push them down. “My name. Use my name and tell me what you want in a sentence and you will get what you desire, I promise you.” _Because it is what I want too._ For a moment you just let out a few ragged breaths and stare into his eyes. Then, attempting something different, you caress at the front of his boxer shorts, trying to play your own game. _“F/N,”_ Mycroft says, his patience dwindling. 

 

“I want you, God I want you inside me, happy now?” you get out.

 

“My _name”-_

 

“Mycroft Holmes I want you inside me,” you tell him quickly.

 

“There, that wasn't so difficult now was it?” Mycroft says, sliding down his boxer shorts, before he kisses you passionately. He moves closer to you as he does so, his leg nudging against yours. He then adjusts his position only slightly, before he enters you. He deliberately pulls his head away, so that he can hear you gasp as your body adjusts and you take more of him in. Your head arches back as you cry out and you quickly try and push it down into his shoulder in order to muffle the sound. “I want everyone to hear,” Mycroft reminds you, lifting your chin back up with his fingers. He thrusts into you further. 

 

“Myc, oh God!” your hands claw into his back and your head swings first down and then up as you struggle to cope with the feel of it all. One of his hands pushes you against the wall and the other worships your body, pushing your bra further up, so that he can do the most extraordinary things with his fingers against your breast. You move one of your hands and attempt to undo his shirt buttons. You don’t have much success. “Myc,” you pant raggedly, both wishing that things could just slow down for one moment and that they could speed up because this is both too much and not enough.

 

_“Mycroft,”_ he growls, thrusting into you all the more. 

 

_“Ah!”_ you gasp, “Mycroft, Mycroft…” 

 

Mycroft kisses you, rewarding you for getting it right. Then, consumed with his own desire and the fact that he’s waited so long for this, his thrusts increase, becoming more forceful. As his hands go to your waist and the kiss ends you find yourself crying out. 

 

A short way away, in his bedroom, Sherlock both rolls his eyes and grimaces at such noise. He pulls his duvet higher up. At least he’d predicted such a thing. At least he’d finally gotten you together. He smiles, and then satisfied with a good day’s work he reaches for the pair of chunky blue safety headphones and puts them on to block out his brother’s groans and your moans, before he rolls around with his back to the door and tries to get some sleep. 

 

*

 

The following morning you wake in your bed in 221C to find that Mycroft’s already gone. He’d come back with you there last night on the pretence, so that you could both clean yourselves up a little and perhaps have some tea, before he departed. The tea had been made, but quickly abandoned when the desire between you had thrummed once more and you’d gone on to make love again, on your bed this time in a more delicate fashion, before the pair of you had shifted beneath the covers and you’d fallen asleep in his arms. It becomes quickly evident that he’s left you some gifts though, for there’s a single rose upon your bedside cabinet. You think it’s a real one at first, but when you twirl it between your fingers you quickly realize that it’s a fake and that Mycroft must have stolen it from the selection of unused props last night. Your phone is there too, and you shake your head a little at yourself when you realize that you’d gotten so caught up in everything that you hadn’t even noticed it missing. The final thing on the bedside cabinet is a note that simply says; _‘Love Posh,’_ with one kiss beneath the words and you smile when you read it. Today is a beautiful day and if yesterday had become the song _‘2 Become 1,’_ by the _Spice Girls_ then today would already be, _‘Here Comes the Sun,’_ by _The Beatles._


End file.
